Time Enough
by Zane Gray
Summary: As Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol return from a visit to a paradise world, they find their complex relationship growing in ways they never dared to imagine possible.


Title: _Time Enough_  
  
Author: Zane Gray (agent8e9@yahoo.com)  
  
Series: _Enterprise_  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: As Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol return from a visit to a paradise world, they find their complex relationship growing in ways they never dared to imagine possible.  
  
About the Story: _Time Enough_ is set after the events of my previous stories, _One Step Back, Two Steps Forward_ and _Sympathies and Symmetries_. Think of it as a touching glimpse into the nervous thoughts and fledgling emotions of both Trip and T'Pol, experienced during a routine away mission, as their relationship races toward the inevitable reckoning of _Differential_.  
  
  
  
"Pellsinor Traffic Control to Enterprise Shuttlepod. You're cleared to leave orbit. We're transmitting your departure plot now."  
  
Commander Tucker thumbed the com in response, and his easy voice filled the tiny cabin. "We have it, Pellsinor. Much appreciated. And thanks for a wonderful visit. Yours is definitely the most beautiful planet I've seen yet."  
  
The voice on the other side of the transmission - a decidedly _female_ voice - warmed considerably. "That's very kind of you. Be sure to tell your Captain that if the rest of your crew is ever in need of recreation, you'll be more than welcome." Then there was a pause, and the voice added mirthfully, "If the rest of your friends surf like you do, Commander, you'll provide enough entertainment for _all_ our guests."  
  
Trip laughed at this. "Sorry! _Nobody's_ as good as me. But I'll be sure to pass that along. Shuttlepod out."  
  
With that, he closed the connection, and engaged the craft's autopilot. Moments later, Shuttlepod Two arched gracefully away from the lush, blue-white crescent of Pellsinor... and raced away into deep space.  
  
That task complete, the Engineer swiveled in the pilot's seat to face his passenger. "Well... we're on our way home. Enterprise confirmed their position, so now it's just you and me for eighteen hours." He grinned. "And I'll have you know, I even showered before we left."  
  
From the back of the compartment, where she was stowing their bags, Sub-Commander T'Pol arched an eyebrow in amusement. "That was considerate of you, Commander. But unnecessary. I have developed a tolerance for your scent."  
  
"Oh yeah? So we Humans don't stink as bad as you thought, huh?"  
  
"I didn't say that. I have merely grown... _familiar_ with your personal odor. I have greater difficulty with that of other crew members."  
  
"Really? What about the Captain?"  
  
Even through her strict emotional control, Trip thought he could detect a faint grimace in the Vulcan's expression. "The Captain reeks of his canine. I require liberal use of nasal inhibitor to endure his company."  
  
Trip's laughter burst forth so suddenly that it took T'Pol off guard. It was nearly a full minute before he regained control of himself enough to speak. "That might be the funniest thing I've ever heard ya say, T'Pol!"  
  
The Vulcan patiently indulged him as he struggled through another fit of amusement. But when he noticed her sudden look of concern, Trip held up his hand. "I swear I won't tell anyone. Especially not the Captain."  
  
She seemed to relax at this. Trip turned back to the controls and made a few adjustments to the cabin temperature. Then he stood and removed his leather field jacket, draping it over an empty seat nearby. He smiled at T'Pol and took her jacket too when she handed it to him.  
  
"So _that's_ why you asked me to accompany you on this little jaunt, huh? My smell is least offensive. I guess should be honored."  
  
As he laid her jacket carefully over his own, T'Pol suddenly grew concerned that she had caused offence. "That was not my _only_ selection criteria," she noted quickly. "You have been working very hard of late on repairs to the Enterprise. The Captain and I both felt that you had earned a rest. And safety regulations require crewmen leaving the ship to do so in pairs during away missions. As I anticipated having to spend time preparing my research findings en route, it was only logical to chose a pilot to accompany me to the Astrophysics Conference."  
  
"Yeah, but this wasn't just about the buddy system. I mean, Travis is a better pilot than I am. And I'm sure the Captain or Malcolm would've been happy to tag along with ya."  
  
T'Pol glanced at the deck for a moment before responding. "My selection was... _personal_ as well." She glanced up at him seriously. "You have offered me your friendship. I had hoped that this would be an acceptable way to return the gesture."  
  
Now Trip's smile was filled with warmth. "It sure was. I know ya had to pull some strings with the Captain to get me here, T'Pol. And I can't tell ya how much I appreciate it." He raised his arms high over his head, and reclined back in the pilot's seat in a lazy stretch. "It's been a _long_ time since I've felt this relaxed. I feel like a new man."  
  
T'Pol's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Have your tensions been eased?" she asked tentatively.  
  
"Definitely." Suddenly, Trip's eyes went wide as he realized what he's just said. "I mean, NO! I mean... _yes_, I'm not stressed out anymore. But no... my tensions haven't been eased. Not in the _biblical_ sense."  
  
The Vulcan struggled to understand, but seemed to realize what he was getting at. "Then you have _not_ engaged in recreational intercourse?"  
  
"_Nnnnnoooooooo_! No way."  
  
Why it was suddenly so important for Trip to be sure that she understood this was beyond him. But it was. And he was almost certain that he detected a hint of relief from his companion at the admission. Strange, given that she was the one who'd first suggested the idea of tension relief in the first place, back when they'd visited Risa.  
  
"You know, I don't know how you might have gotten the idea. But I've never engaged in... recreational intercourse." He struggled with the words. "I mean... at least not since we left Earth anyway."  
  
His companion's eyebrow arched sharply... and Trip knew immediately what she was thinking. His brow furrowed in irritation. "It was a bowl of _rocks_! How the hell was I supposed to know it was a sex thing? Besides, what about you and that Tolaris guy? Ya sure spent enough time with him."  
  
From the pained look that suddenly appeared on T'Pol's face, Trip knew that he'd crossed a line. His expression quickly softened. "Ahhhh hell. T'Pol... I'm so sorry. That's none of my business. I shouldn't have--"  
  
"Your apology is unnecessary, Commander. I, too, was inquiring about matters that were not of my concern." Despite her calm reply, she was clearly struggling to regain her composure.  
  
"Yeah, but still..."  
  
T'Pol thought she detected his voice tightening. To her surprise, he reached out and took her hand before continuing gently. "You're my friend. And what I said was unforgivable. I'm _really_ sorry. Are you okay?"  
  
T'Pol could sense his concern for her through their light touch. She found it oddly comforting. "I am fine, Commander."  
  
That was true, of course. But there was something about the incident with Tolaris that lingered still in her consciousness. Something disturbing. T'Pol had an irrational feeling, one that she could not suppress, that it would have as yet unknown effects on her life. Still, Trip could not have known of the encounter... of Tolaris' violation of her.  
  
The Commander gave her hand a squeeze. "Look... I know I said this once before. But if you ever need to talk, I'll always be here for you."  
  
She realized that his hands were surprisingly soft for one who used them so often in his work. His touch was pleasant. Soothing. For a moment, T'Pol watched as his fingers stroked gently over the back of her hand. Then she looked up into his eyes. What she saw in them held her transfixed.  
  
Humans had a saying about the eyes. They called them 'windows to the soul'. And for the first time, T'Pol thought she understood what that meant. She saw caring in the Commander's eyes... compassion. She saw his goodness, felt it through his touch. And she felt something more as well... something that was only just now coming into being, flickering gently like a flame. There was no word for it in T'Pol's language. At least not anymore. The ancient words were forbidden. But some primal part of herself recognized what she saw in this Human... understood its importance. Its importance for her.  
  
She blinked. The moment broken, Trip smiled shyly. "So... are you hungry?"  
  
T'Pol recovered quickly and gave a small nod. "What did you have in mind?"  
  
Trip opened the pod's galley and began removing items she didn't recognize. "There was this great little café down on the beach. I ate there a few times while you were busy at the conference. I had them whip up something special just before we left."  
  
T'Pol folded down the cabin's work table and he placed two sealed food containers before them, along with an assortment of utensils. He opened the lids to reveal a pair of sumptuous dishes. "Let's see... we've got 'greel-ponja' for you... it's a sort of a rice noodle pasta with spicy vegetable sauce and sliced nuts sprinkled over it. And I've got something called 'dark freeling'. Kind of a meat stew, with lotsa stuff you wouldn't care for in it." He smiled at her again. "Plus... I've got salad for two. And to drink, sparkling water for you and a local beer for me."  
  
T'Pol sniffed the air gently, and her eyes widened. "It smells delicious, Commander. Thank you."  
  
"It's the least I can do." He opened their drinks and raised his into the air. "To friendship?"  
  
His companion followed suit. "Yes... to friendship."  
  
Trip smiled at the Vulcan warmly. And as Shuttlepod Two accelerated into the darkness, T'Pol's eyes, at least, were smiling back.  
  
  
...  
  
  
Some hours later, a soft gasp escaped T'Pol's lips. Alarmed, she looked up self-consciously from the book she was reading, and was relieved to see that Commander Tucker had fallen asleep on the small, fold-out bunk beside her chair. She was grateful that he was not witness to her unforgivable lapse of control.  
  
T'Pol felt foolish. But the evidence was clear... her time was fast approaching. Her body chemistry was churning rapidly out of control. It should not be. But despite the best efforts of Doctor Phlox to delay it, the drugs with which Silik had flooded her system had quickened her metabolism inevitably. Logically, her unbalanced emotions were the result of simple biology. At least that's what she told herself. But the reality was, there was more to it. Her feelings, she knew, had everything to do with the Human who lay beside her.  
  
Taking a deep drink of the bottle of sparkling water, T'Pol let the cool liquid soothe the tightness of her throat. And slowly, she brought her emotions back into some semblance of balance. Then she laid her book on the seat beside her... and did the one thing she could not bring herself to prevent. T'Pol watched Commander Tucker sleep.  
  
She observed the silent rhythm of his breathing. She savored the peaceful look on his face... admired the pleasing geometry of his features. T'Pol relished the opportunity to do this. It was one of the reasons she'd invited him along in the first place... but only one of them.  
  
T'Pol had watched him sleeping often during their long journey to Pellsinor. During breaks in the Astrophysics Conference, she'd even walked down to the boardwalk to watch him further, as he enjoyed the pristine sand and surf the seaside resort had to offer. Her spirit rejoiced in the obvious delight he took from participating in a local surfing competition... the pleasure with which he recounted the events to her in the evening over dinner.  
  
_"You should see the height of the curls, T'Pol! I've never seen surf like that back home!"  
  
"Pellsinor has three moons, Commander. The ocean tides are therefore more extreme."  
  
"Extreme is an understatement! Sure am glad the beach has a sandy bottom, 'cause I've been getting knocked on my ass out there all day long. Back on Earth, surf like that'd kill me. But jeez... talk about fun! I wish you could see it, T'Pol!"_  
  
Of course, she had, though he could not have known. And it was a memory the Vulcan would cherish always. She'd left the conference as often as possible to indulge herself. She'd even eaten at the same café where he'd obtained their earlier meal... sampled the very same dish he'd selected for her. It touched her that he knew her well enough to make the same culinary choice on her behalf that she had.  
  
So much about this Human was comforting to her. Familiar, somehow, in a way she could not begin to understand. It was not surprising that Commander Tucker engendered such feelings in her. He had a similar effect on almost everyone he met.  
  
On several occasions during their three-day stay on the planet, T'Pol had witnessed the local females admiring the Commander's athletic physique... his emotional exuberance... his charisma. She knew instinctively that they were attracted to him. Even his fellow shipmates on Enterprise reacted to him in an emotional way. More than once, she had observed as crewmen seem to light up when he entered the room. In the Mess Hall, when they met for lunch, people often called out greetings to him or waved as he passed. And the Commander always took a moment to respond to each personally. She knew his door was always open to them when they needed to talk about a personal issue.  
  
For a long time, T'Pol had felt that such behavior was inappropriate. After all, Commander Tucker was a senior officer. Such emotional interactions were unthinkable on a Vulcan ship, and for so long she had dismissed the Commander because of this. But when things were tense, it was often Commander Tucker who provided the greatest reassurance to the crew. When the Captain was struggling with something, or was feeling the heavy burdens of command, a conversation with the Commander was often the best catalyst for effective decision-making. T'Pol had observed that if Archer had a problem, he often took a walk down to Engineering, only to return to the Bridge with greater confidence. She had even learned to encourage such conversations between them.  
  
And it wasn't just the Captain who benefited from Trip's counsel. T'Pol recalled a past incident with a young Lieutenant in Engineering, who had been late for a duty shift because of illness. When T'Pol had investigated, she'd discovered that the young woman had imbibed too much alcohol with her friends the previous evening. T'Pol's first reaction had been to report the woman to the Captain. But Commander Tucker had intervened. He'd spoken to the woman, and was certain the incident would not be repeated.  
  
_"This is why we have a chain of command, T'Pol. We can't report every little thing like this to the Captain - he'd never be able to do his job effectively. Hailey's assured me that it was a mistake and that it won't happen again."  
  
"You are foolish to take her assurances on face value alone. Mistakes can prove costly in deep space."  
  
"Mistakes are Human, T'Pol. But that's how we learn. Just trust me on this, will you? I'll take responsibility for it if it backfires. But I can guarantee it won't happen again."_  
  
Sure enough, it hadn't. The Lieutenant's efficiency had actually increased after the incident. The young woman had redoubled her efforts, earning a commendation in her next two service reviews. In fact, the performance of the entire Engineering staff was exemplary. And so T'Pol had been forced to admit, against all logic, that the Commander's unorthodox style of command was effective. He was, in a very real way, the glue that held Enterprise's Human contingent together.  
  
Its Vulcan contingent as well, she knew.  
  
So much about this man intrigued her. From the first day they'd met, Charles Tucker had challenged her. Forced her to reconsider beliefs she'd once thought immutable. And yet he respected her as well. She knew this beyond doubt. Her life had been immeasurably enriched by this Human's presence in it.  
  
In a moment of weakness... or perhaps it was strength... T'Pol reached out to him. With the lightest of touches, she ran her fingers through his sun-bleached hair. She traced a fingertip along the gentle curve of his ear. He shivered in his sleep, and she shivered too. When he finally turned his cheek into her caress, she withdrew her hand quickly. His eyes rolled under closed lids, responding to dreams T'Pol could not even begin to imagine. But she wished to know them nonetheless.  
  
As she turned to gaze out the viewport at the infinity of stars beyond, T'Pol anguished over the realities of a Universe that could bring the two of them together, and yet place so many obstacles between them.  
  
He was Human. She was Vulcan. It was as simple as that.  
  
And yet he meant everything to her. He gave her life meaning... flavor... in ways she had never known.  
  
What would she risk for a taste of it? What would she sacrifice for a chance at everything?  
  
  
...  
  
  
Trip had been having the strangest dreams. He'd dreamed that T'Pol had touched him... that she _wanted_ him. That she'd even fallen in love with him.  
  
_Must be all the sun and fresh air_, he mused. _Not used to it after all these months on Enterprise. And we've never spent so much time together, just the two of us. That must be it.  
  
Yeah, right. Just keep telling yerself that..._  
  
The fact was, Trip enjoyed spending time with T'Pol. She was easy to talk to. Even though she'd nearly spent more time in space that he'd been alive, it was almost like everything was new to her when she was with him. And the more time he spent in her company, the more layers he discovered to her personality. The more fascinating she became.  
  
Contrary to everything he'd believed about Vulcans, she was extraordinarily open to possibility. It required only a little patience and encouragement. After he'd woken from his latest nap - he'd lost track of time the moment he left the planet's surface, as he always did without the sun or a set schedule to ground him - he'd taken it upon himself to expose her to a little of his musical tastes. They'd spent an hour negotiating a choice she found acceptable. He's first tried some early Rolling Stones - always high among his favorites. She thought the speakers were faulty.  
  
_The fidelity of this composition is less than optimal.  
  
That's 'cause this song was recorded back in the days when analog monophonic was state of the art.  
  
Most inefficient. Perhaps another selection would be better..._  
  
He'd next called up a little Peter Gabriel. She seemed to appreciate the song's musical value, but then...  
  
_The lyrical imagery is too rooted in the sexual.  
  
That's sorta the point. I think you'll find that a lot of Human behavior is rooted in the sexual, T'Pol.  
  
Indeed..._  
  
Unfortunately, Trip had missed the slight blush of her ears. Instead, he'd puzzled over another choice. Finally, he'd tried Miles Davis.  
  
_Here we go... A Kind of Blue. Didn't you tell me you liked Jazz?  
  
You are correct.  
  
Well, this is the best there is. A classic recording if ever there was one.  
  
I've not heard it before. I believe it will suffice._  
  
He'd been inordinately pleased with himself at finding something she finally seemed to enjoy. After listening together for a time, T'Pol had gone back to reading her book. Content that she was enjoying herself, Trip turned back to the flight controls to check their position. Then he'd run a diagnostic on the pod's long-range sensors just to satisfy the engineer in him. Finally, he'd been thinking seriously about taking out his harmonica. And then, the strangest thing happened.  
  
He glanced out the viewport to look at the stars... and happened to catch T'Pol's reflection in the clear plexsteel. She was sitting on the bunk behind him, her book held open, but down in her lap. She was watching him. And he could swear that she was crying.  
  
But by the time he'd turned around to look at her, she'd set her book aside and switched off the reading light, leaving the cabin in darkness save for the glow from the instrument panel. Then she lay down as if to sleep, with her body turned away from him so that he couldn't see her face. Had it just been his imagination?  
  
"T'Pol?"  
  
There was a notable pause before she responded neutrally. "Yes, Commander?"  
  
He wanted to be sure. He so badly wanted to know her thoughts. But he couldn't bring himself to ask.  
  
"Sleep well."  
  
"Thank you," she replied softly.  
  
Within moments, she was asleep. And Trip felt as if an opportunity had been lost.  
  
He turned back to the diagnostic. Tried to absorb himself with predicting its results. He ran it again. And again. But the sensors were in perfect working order each time. Damn them. He almost wished for a malfunction, just so he'd have something to occupy his mind. To keep himself from thinking about her.  
  
What had she been crying about? Had she been really crying? He was pretty sure he hadn't imagined it. Trip began to worry. Vulcans didn't cry, did they? What did it mean? Was she all right? Why had she been watching him?  
  
For a few minutes, he simply listened to the sound of her breathing against the soft humming of the thrusters. Then he thought of her book sitting on the bunk beside her. And his need to know overcame his better judgement. He turned and reached for it.  
  
It was an old book, Trip noted as he held it in his hands. Leather bound and well kept. He smelled its rich, earthy odor. Surely a Vulcan text. There was no title on the cover, so he opened it to the first page. He was surprised at what he read there.  
  
_Love Poems and Sonnets of William Shakespeare_.  
  
He glanced down at T'Pol's sleeping form. Would she never cease to surprise him?  
  
Looking at the book again, Trip saw that there was a silky strip of ribbon marking the page she'd been reading. Opening the book to the marked place, he read the words he found there...   
  
_Against my love shall be as I am now,  
With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'erworn;  
When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his brow  
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn  
Hath travelled on to age's steepy night;  
And all those beauties whereof now he's king  
Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight,  
Stealing away the treasure of his spring;  
For such a time do I now fortify  
Against confounding age's cruel knife,  
That he shall never cut from memory  
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life:  
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,  
And they shall live, and he in them still green._  
  
Trip sat back heavily on the pilot's seat. His dreams came flooding back into his mind. Were they... _real_? Could they be? He thought of the moment they'd shared earlier, over dinner. The look in her eyes when he'd held her hand. The sadness he'd seen, and the other things too... feelings she'd tried to hide from him. But it had all there for him to read, if he wished, pooling liquidly in her eyes.  
  
Something twisted inside of Trip then. Something frayed and snapped in his chest, coming undone. Beyond his ability to repair. Beyond his desire to repair.  
  
T'Pol did have those feelings, he realized. Powerful feelings. What it meant for them, he couldn't yet say. But somehow, it changed everything.  
  
With a heavy sigh, Trip set the book back down beside her. Then he took out a blanket, and spread it gently over T'Pol's sleeping form. And as he turned back to the flight controls in the darkness of the cabin, he began to wonder about the future.  
  
  
...  
  
  
Jonathan Archer was a patient man. But he found himself pacing back and forth in the corridor as he waited for the Flight Deck to re-pressurize. As the Enterprise's Captain, he knew that he relied on his Chief Engineer and First Officer to keep things running smoothly. But he hadn't realized how much he'd miss them when they weren't around. And four days of dinners alone in the Captain's Mess was more than enough. So when the light signaled that the atmosphere in the bay had been equalized to ship's normal, he was through the doors in an instant.  
  
The hatch to Shuttlepod Two was just opening as he bounded down the metal stairs to greet his friends. And then they appeared, Trip emerging first, then turning back and holding out his hand in gentlemanly fashion to help T'Pol to the deck. To Archer's surprise, she accepted.  
  
"Welcome back, you two! So is Pellsinor as beautiful as the pictures in Vulcan database make it look?"  
  
Trip smiled at him - a full-on toothy grin. "Better. Beaches to die for, Captain! I spent the whole time just swimming... soaking up the sun. And poor T'Pol here was stuck inside talking about dark matter and cosmological constants. I almost feel guilty for havin' all the fun."  
  
"The conference was hardly boring. On the contrary, I found much of the discussion quite fascinating. I have uncovered a number of potential new avenues for my research."  
  
Trip glanced at her dubiously, but the sparkle in his eyes made it clear he was just teasing her. "Uh-huh. Not as much fun as surfing though. Ya shoulda seen me, Captain. I haven't been in that kinda form in years."  
  
T'Pol arched an eyebrow at her travel companion. "My understanding was that you spent the whole time getting knocked on your ass. Am I in error, Commander?"  
  
Archer's laughter echoed through the bay as Trip grinned sheepishly. "I think you've been busted, Trip."  
  
"Yeah... well, I think I did pretty well considerin' I haven't been on a board in more than four years." Trip reached back into the pod and retrieved their bags. He handed one to T'Pol.  
  
"Thanks again for invitin' me along, T'Pol. I really had a blast."  
  
"You are quite welcome, Commander. I found your company to be... not at all unpleasant." She turned to the Captain. "If you will excuse me, sir, I wish to freshen up and meditate."  
  
"Of course. Good you have you back, Sub-Commander." With that, T'Pol climbed the stairs toward the catwalk above. Archer turned back to his best friend.  
  
"Not at all unpleasant? High praise from a Vulcan."  
  
The engineer smiled again as he closed the pod hatch behind him. "Yeah, well... I can be civilized on occasion."  
  
"Never thought otherwise. You up for a little water polo? A couple fresh matches just came in off subspace..."  
  
"Sounds great! And that reminds me... there's a case of Pellsinorian beer in the cargo compartment. Thought maybe it'd make a nice change."  
  
Archer smiled brightly and slapped him on the shoulder. "I knew I picked you for my Chief Engineer for a reason." With that, he walked around the craft to retrieve the bounty.  
  
As the Captain disappeared behind the tail of the shuttlepod, Trip glanced up at the catwalk thoughtfully. T'Pol had almost reached the doors leading out of the bay. And then, the silliest, most irrational thought popped into his mind.  
  
_If she looks back, she loves you..._  
  
T'Pol reached the doors and triggered the control. But as she was about to step through them, she paused and glanced down at him, just for an instant. Trip gave her a goofy little wave. And as she disappeared into the corridor... he could swear he saw a hint of a smile on her face.  
  
Archer spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out why his best friend was grinning like an idiot.  
  
  
...  
  
  
Later that night, T'Pol sat on the floor of her cabin in meditation. The delicate glass sculpture that Commander Tucker had given her flickered invitingly in front of her, and she gradually lost herself in its glow. Emotions swirled turbulently within her. Forbidden thoughts. Words drifted through her consciousness. His words, spoken not so long ago.  
  
_"Maybe if you knew you only had forty or fifty years left, things would start to feel a little more urgent."_  
  
T'Pol finally understood that urgency. Even now, she could feel the time of pon frell overtaking her. Soon... she would have to choose. Mate or die.  
  
_"My friends call me Trip..."_  
  
Had she really known from the beginning? Perhaps. But she had asked him to accompany her to Pellsinor so that she could be certain. And now she was.  
  
She could not desire Commander Tucker. But she did. He was the path she could not take. But she would.  
  
_"Life is about gettin' your hands dirty. Seein' things with your own eyes - not just watching 'em remotely on a viewscreen. Touching... experiencing. Feeling."_  
  
T'Pol was certainly feeling now. The sonnet in her book had touched a painful nerve. And now, her heart ached profoundly for a loss she had not yet suffered. Forty or fifty years. Then she would have nothing left but memory... memory, and the prospect of more than a century alone.  
  
He was Human. She was Vulcan. And yet he meant everything to her.  
  
What would she sacrifice for a chance at everything?  
  
All she had and more. Her past... even her future. All in exchange for forty or fifty years.  
  
In the end, T'Pol was surprised at how easy it was to take the first step. Her choice had already been made.  
  
T'Pol had all the time in the world. But there would never be time enough.  
  
  
--- FIN ---  
  
  
If you enjoyed what you just read, be sure to check out _One Step Back, Two Steps Forward_ and _Sympathies and Symmetries_ (which precede this story), as well as _Differential_ and _The Early Hours_ (which are set after it). Watch for the next installment in this series, _Objects in Motion_, coming later in 2003.  
  
And thanks to The Bard for the lovely, simple angst of Sonnet 63.  
  
Best wishes as always!  
  
Zane Gray   
agent8e9@yahoo.com  
4/21/03


End file.
